NotSoSuper Bowl Sunday
by SpecialParanoia
Summary: Who knew a Super Bowl party could be such a big deal? Apparently everyone but Reid. One-shot.


**A/N: **So... 'Help!' didn't seem to go over too well, did it? Maybe you guys will be more receptive to this one- it's back to the usual, minus the music inspiration. Here's hoping you enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the computer used to type this piece, and the credit card bill that goes with it- though I would happily hand over the latter. Any takers?

* * *

><p><strong>Not-So-Super Bowl Sunday<strong>

Spencer Reid couldn't help the surprise written all over his face as he stopped dead in his tracks, staring after Derek Morgan with wide eyes.

"No?" he echoed, nonplussed.

"No, kid," Morgan answered firmly. He didn't stop, didn't so much as turn his head to address his colleague but instead tossed the words over his shoulder and quickened his pace. There were a few beats of silence before the young genius blinked, rebooted, and jogged after him.

"But… why not? You love football! A-and you're always dragging me out after work or over to your place to… to 'let loose and relax,' as you call it and- and now that _I'm_ actually the one proposing-"

"_LOOK_, kid," Morgan snapped, whirling on his previously sputtering friend with hard, unreadable eyes, "I said no. Okay? N-O, man. No Super Bowl Party. I'm not interested, I'm not going, and I am _not_ having this conversation anymore. Got it?"

He immediately regretted his outburst as Reid balked, taking a step back and away from him, clearly stunned and just a little hurt. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his head, opening his mouth to apologize but Spencer's quiet voice stopped him before he could start.

"O-okay, fine. I get it, Morgan. No party. I'm sorry I bothered you, it's just…" Reid paused to take a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest and unconsciously assuming a defensive posture. "I don't get it. Everyone's said no except Rossi, and he's the _last_ person I expected to convince to spend time with me outside of work voluntarily. Emily wouldn't even look at me when I asked her. Garcia looked like she was about ready to cry. What's going on with you guys? It's just a party. We've done this before; yeah, it's been a few years, but we had fun that night… right?"

"Yeah, Reid," Morgan sighed. "We did-"

"Then why is it such a big deal? If you guys really hated hanging out with me, you wouldn't physically force me out to the bars all the time, so I know it's not that, and it's not me making something out of nothing. My mere presence doesn't typically make Garcia cry-"

"Typically?"

Reid shuffled his feet, flushing. "Not unless I've contracted anthrax or been shot recently, anyway," he muttered. There was a wry quirk of the lips, then he shook his head a little and got back on point. "And you, Morgan- you were just about to take my head off for inviting you to do something you were going to do in the first place! I'm sorry, but I just… I just don't get it, man. What'd I do?"

As much as he tried to cover it with earnest confusion, there was a plaintive undertone to Reid's words that felt to Morgan like a swift kick to the gut. Damn his temper, anyway. If he could just learn to behave like a civilized adult instead of a hot-headed baboon, a simple 'no' wouldn't have turned into a crisis of confidence situation for the always self-doubting young Doctor.

Scratch that- there wouldn't be _any_ situation if he could just keep his head, for once.

'_Big "if".'_

Morgan heaved a long, deep sigh, looking properly chagrined when he finally answered.

"I'm sorry, kid. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that," he apologized sincerely. "It's not you. It's-it's just me. Us. It's… hard to explain." He was tempted to give the soulful-puppy-dog-eyes look that Reid had down so well a try and leave it at that, possibly walking away with some sympathy points once the kid realized that maybe he'd hit upon a touchy subject. Very tempted. But Reid was giving him a _stare_ the likes of which would make Hotch proud and Big Bad Derek Morgan quickly crumbled.

"No one's watching the damn Super Bowl, Reid," he blurted out, surprised by his own candor. Not even noticing that Reid's arms dropped to his sides or the way his face scrunched up in confusion, he plunged ahead. "You didn't do anything, I promise, and you're _never_ a bother, so cut that out.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you. I was out of line. I appreciate the offer- we all do, trust me, even if we don't act like it. Any other day, any other party, and we'll be down for it, you have my word on that, kid. But not that one, okay? Just not that Sunday." And with that Morgan gave Reid's shoulder a slight squeeze and walked away, leaving the genius standing bewildered in the middle of the bullpen.

'_What the…?'_

Reid scrubbed his hands over his eyes, suddenly very tired as he ran through their conversation in his mind.

'_I still don't get it.'_

Eyeing the pile of paperwork perched precariously on the edge of his desk, - '_Funny, I didn't realize I was so adept at alliteration,'_ - Spencer breathed out a frustrated sigh and decided that if he had to choose between two un-enjoyable activities with which to occupy the rest of his afternoon, backlogged reports and consults would at least be more productive than arguing with his colleagues.

"Reid."

'_Or not.'_

Reid turned around reluctantly to find Hotch standing on the balcony staring down at him.

"Could you come into my office for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Reid bit his lip. '_Crying? Check. Avoidance? Check. Annoyed and irate? Check and check; two of Morgan's greatest areas of expertise. Wonder what Hotch's reaction would be if I-_

'_Nah, I think I'll just leave it alone. Party: cancelled. Boss… waiting for you. GO, genius.'_

Reid approached the office door with no small amount of trepidation. After such a bizarre and unpleasant morning, he wouldn't be surprised if Hotch was about to suspend him for killing the squirrel he'd accidentally run over two weeks ago. How his boss would have found out about the incident is a moot point- the FBI doesn't tolerate vehicular manslaughter. '_New policy. Quantico's going green. Would've just been a slap on the wrist if I drove something more fuel-efficient than my gas guzzling boat…' _Reid frowned a little at the strange direction his thoughts were taking.

'_Letting your imagination get the better of you, Spencer?' _He snorted quietly. _'Maybe the real question is, would you honestly be surprised if that were the case? Note to self: look into purchasing a hybrid. Or better yet, rely solely on public transportation from here on out. Squirrel homicide would no longer be on your conscience.'_

Shaking away the (mostly) ridiculous thoughts he stepped over the threshold and stood nervously while Hotch hastily scribbled his signature on the stack of paper crowding his desk.

"Close the door, please, and take a seat."

'_Close the door? Uh-oh.'_

Reid turned to comply and noticed Morgan and Prentiss watching him curiously from the bullpen, the former still looking apologetic at his earlier outburst. Prentiss gave him a small wave of encouragement that he actually found surprisingly helpful- '_Okay, maybe not that surprising after everyone's weird behavior toward me, today'-_ then made an exaggerated face at the folders on her desk. He smiled at her antics as he closed the door and perched nervously on the edge of one of the chairs. Hotch continued writing on another report for a few moments before finally dropping the pen with a sigh, looking up at his subordinate with tired eyes.

Reid seemed unaccountably apprehensive, a strange look on his face as he sat looking for all the world like a child sent to the principal's office, hands fidgeting incessantly. Hotch frowned, scrutinizing the young man- which only served to make him more nervous.

"Something the matter, Reid?" he finally asked. Spencer appeared startled at the question, brow furrowing a little.

"Sir?"

Hotch swallowed a wry smile. "You seem rather… uncomfortable. You're not in any trouble- I didn't give you that impression, did I?"

"No," Reid admitted, though the strange expression remained.

"Rough morning, then?"

Reid snorted. "More like 'strange'." Hotch continued to study him, one eyebrow arched in curiosity.

"Do tell?"

The genius shook his head, looking almost chagrined as he studied the carpet. "It's nothing important, just… Never mind. You wanted to see me…?"

For some reason, Agent Hotchner found he didn't want to let it go. It really wasn't any of his business to pry, and Reid's behavior wasn't _that_ bizarre- not for him, at any rate. Aaron was just curious. He'd been buried in papers all week, his hand was cramping from holding a pen all damn morning, and he wasn't going to let an opportunity for a break from the monotony just go. He'd apologize later, if necessary, but for now he couldn't help himself.

Waving a hand dismissively, the Unit Chief leaned back casually. "I just wanted your opinion on a consult I've been working on. It can wait. What do you mean, 'strange'? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine- I think. It's just…" Spencer chewed his lip, debating whether he should be honest about their coworkers' odd reactions. Would it be considered tattling? _To heck with it- they're the ones acting so weird. Maybe Hotch will know what's going on with them._ "Everyone's been acting really weird, today, and I don't get why," he blurted out. "It was just an invitation, but everyone's either crying, avoiding me, or jumping down my throat. Did I miss something?"

"I don't know…" Hotch responded slowly, "but I feel like_ I_ have. An invitation to what, exactly?"

"Just a Super Bowl party!" Reid exclaimed, barely restraining the urge to throw his hands in the air. "We haven't done anything outside of work all together in a while, and I remember everyone having fun last time, so I figured- I mean, I thought it would be a good idea. I know I'm not anyone's first choice to watch sports with, but this is… this is ridiculous! Would it really be so terrible?"

"Yes," Hotch replied calmly, "it really would."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Aaron knew he should feel badly. Seeing the shock and hurt register in Reid's expression, he almost did.

It amazed the Unit Chief how naïve their resident genius could be at times. How the kid could profile the hell out of any person at any time but be completely blind to the feelings of those around him was baffling.

..Okay, maybe not so much _baffling_- he did have severe self-confidence and self-esteem issues. That combined with the fact that the social cues he missed tended to revolve around himself often made for a lose-lose situation, but still. In so few words even Aaron understood the situation as clearly as if it had smacked him in the face, yet here Reid sat gobsmacked by his colleagues' "weird" behavior. _'Smartest kid in the room…'_

Reid, for his part, sat silently as he tried to process his boss's blunt declaration. He could feel his mouth working with no sound coming out, glad at least that he wasn't gaping like a fish. _'Did he really just…?'_ Figuring he should at least say _something_ in an effort to get past the awkward moment, he opened his mouth with a witty retort on his tongue. What came out was decidedly different.

"Gee, how do you _really_ feel?" He could have smacked himself for being so flippant. _'No wonder no one wants to spend time with you- look at the way you talk to your _boss_!'_ Immediately Reid started stumbling over an apology only to be cut off as Hotch started to… laugh? _'Huh?'_

"You really have had a rough morning, haven't you, Reid?" Hotch asked as he continued to chuckle.

"Umm… Yes. Yessir, I, uh- I'm sorry, sir. That was rude. I sh-"

"Don't be," he reassured, waving a dismissive hand. "_I_ should apologize. That was harsh, and I'm sorry, Reid. Just because I can see the answer so easily doesn't mean I have the right to mock you for missing it."

Reid studied him a moment, head tilted ever so slightly. "You were mocking me?"

"Teasing?"

"Are you asking me or telling me, sir?"

"Questioning if you would believe it after I've inserted my foot firmly in mouth," Hotch admitted with a wry quirk of his lips. Reid snorted a laugh and relaxed a little in his chair, though the experienced profiler noted that the tension didn't completely dissipate from his shoulders.

"So you'd rather make fun of- sorry, _tease,_ me than give me a straight answer? Not that this isn't par for the course, today, but is the truth really so terrible?"

"No."

"Then it's just me- _I'm _the one that's so terrible."

"Of course not!" Hotch was quick to deny. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he thought over how best to explain. _'To hell with it. He wants a straight answer, I'll give him one. Beating around the bush is more work than it's worth with Reid, anyway_ .' Leaning forward, he locked eyes with his subordinate in an effort to convey the sincerity of what he was about to admit to.

"Reid, the problem is that no one on this team will _be_ watching the Super Bowl. We haven't for years and, quite frankly, none of us want to."

Reid looked puzzled. "That's what Morgan said, but it doesn't answer my question. What I don't get, here, is _why_. I'm the one that doesn't even like football, so why don't any of you want to watch the one game that, to my understanding, is the most important of the entire… um, season?"

"Because that happens to have been the night we received the Hankel case, and we're none of us particularly fond of the reminder." Hotch watched with some amusement as puzzled quickly became utterly confused before settling into dumbfounded, Reid's eyebrows doing a little dance throughout the process.

"…Hankel?" Reid managed to ask. "What does that have to do with anything? Just because we got the call out that night-"

"I didn't say that it made any sort of sense," Hotch interrupted. "Emotion is rarely logical. It may be a ridiculous association to make, we've all conceded that point, but the fact remains that we do.

"No, the Super Bowl did not, in actuality, have anything to do with your kidnapping. The NFL didn't torture and drug you for two days. We know that. We also know that it was in the midst of that particular celebration we were thrown into an investigation that very nearly cost you your life. As your friends, that is not something we take lightly." Satisfied that he had made his point, Aaron leaned back in his chair and contented himself to wait while his agent digested the information.

Reid, for a wonder, appeared to be completely speechless as he thought over what he'd just been told. It was several minutes before he could force out a coherent response.

"You guys have really felt that way all these years?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Hotch answered simply.

"But… wow. I guess I just never realized that… that you guys would, you know-" Reid waved his hands helplessly, unsure of how to phrase what he was thinking without sounding callous.

"That we would be deeply affected by the near tragic loss of someone we care about? That the image of you, clinically dead _for two minutes_, doesn't continue to haunt us to this day? That watching you struggle every day with the aftermath of what was done to you against your will isn't as painful for us as it is for you?" Spencer flushed under his superior's intense gaze, feeling properly chastised.

"Yeah, something like that," he mumbling, eyes fixed on his fidgeting hands.

"You don't give us much credit, then, do you Reid?"

"It's not that, honest. I know that you guys, um- that you… _care_, and everything, and I know it wasn't easy on any of you, either," Reid was quick to protest, but cursed himself and his insecurities as he stumbled a little. "What's not making sense to me is why you would associate all of that with a sporting event? It was days after we got the case that he took me. I just don't see the connection, let alone why you would allow it to linger all these years."

Hotch sighed, feeling like this conversation was only going to go around in circles if he didn't figure out how to explain himself in terms the ever-logical, ever-literal young man couldn't possibly misunderstand. They sat in silence for several minutes while he wracked his brain, eyes roaming around for some sort of inspiration. Movement out of the corner of his eye brought Aaron's attention to the large window that looked out into the bullpen and he watched through the blinds as David Rossi hurried past. Faintly, he could hear the ringing of a telephone and figured it must be coming from Dave's office for the older man to be in such a rush. There was something about the thought that niggled at the back of his mind. A quick mental game of Six Degrees and suddenly he had an idea.

"What do you associate with Gideon's departure from this team?" he asked suddenly. Reid's eyes grew large with surprise, mouth hanging open slightly for a moment before pursing with confusion.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Don't overthink this. Just give me the first thought that comes to mind when I mention Jason leaving." Aaron pushed, already knowing what the answer would be.

"Frank Brightkopf," came the quick reply. "Why?"

"You think of Frank as being the reason Gideon walked away?"

"Of course."

"But he came back, afterward. It was the case at a college campus that pushed him over the edge. He said as much in the letter he left you, so why are you so quick to point out what Frank did as the impetus?"

"Because he started the chain of events that led to Gideon's dou- _oh._" Reid's eyes, if possible, grew even larger as he realized the point Hotch was making and the Unit Chief allowed himself a small smirk.

"Perhaps not the best analogy," he admitted, "but it seems to have done the job." Spencer nodded, feeling foolish for being so blind when everything now seemed so obvious.

"I could point out the vast difference between a prolific serial killer murdering Gideon's friend in his apartment, and the fact that we happened to be at a bar together for more than just drinks after work when we got the call out, but something tells me that would be nitpicking, at this point." There was a hint of a cheeky grin on Reid's face that the older agent was glad to see.

"Not for you," he replied easily. "Though if you did, I would be forced to counter with the fact that, to us, they are not entirely dissimilar, given your penchant for attracting trouble everywhere you go. We finally managed to get you out and having a good time- while watching _sports_, no less- and even that was ruined in an ultimately horrific way."

"In hindsight, the whole Super Bowl thing might have been a little insensitive, then, huh?"

"Not insensitive, no," Hotch reassured. "It just happens to have been something the rest of us are _more_ sensitive about than you. That is a detail that pales in comparison to everything else that happened in Georgia for you. Really, it's a good thing- you don't need any more burdens, where that's concerned."

"Still… no wonder Garcia started to cry."

"Don't worry about it; I'm sure they already forgive you."

Reid looked less than reassured as he played with his fingernails. "How can I make up for it, though?" He winced at how childish he sounded as Hotch's face softened sympathetically.

"You don't have to make up for anything, Reid. It was an honest mistake and I'm sure the others appreciate the gesture. In fact, I'd bet they all feel badly for overreacting the way they did."

"Really?"

"Absolutely," Hotch smiled, and finally Reid seemed able to completely relax. He relished the moment for a time, glad he could still prove to be a help to his subordinates both personally as well as professionally, before clearing his throat a little and picking up the file that had brought Reid into his office in the first place.

The two worked steadily for about an hour, tossing around ideas and comparing notes. Reid, as per usual, picked up on a minor detail his superior had missed the first go-'round and was able to illustrate its importance in tying the rest of the profile together as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Within minutes their profile was finalized and ready to be sent off to the local LEOs.

"Thank you for the help, Reid. It would've taken me the entire day to spot that, on my own," Hotch said sincerely as Reid stretched from his seat. His subordinate flashed him a shy smile.

"Well, sir, I don't know about you, but knowing how much paperwork is waiting for me almost makes me wish it had taken a little longer." He laughed when Hotch merely huffed in response, shooting a dirty look at his own stack of folders. Knowing neither of them could really afford to put it off too long, Reid excused himself and opened the office door. Halfway out, he turned back suddenly.

"Hey Hotch," he started hesitantly, "I had an idea, and I was wondering… could I ask you something?"

"Of course," Aaron replied quickly, curious in spite of himself. The mischievous grin that slowly spread across Spencer's face instantly made him wary.

"Are you free this Sunday?"

* * *

><p>Morgan and Emily were talking quietly in the break room when Reid strolled in. He headed straight for the coffee pot on the counter the two were leaning on and tactfully pretended not to notice when they both fell silent at the sight of him, sharing a glance before seeming to come to a decision.<p>

"Reid, man-" Morgan placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, his tone of voice heavy with the apology he was about to stumble through. "Prentiss and I have been talking, and I know I said I was sorry earlier but we both feel bad about the way we reacted this morning. We just… You see, Kid, the thing is-"

"What we really owe you is an explanation, Reid," Emily cut in. She took a deep breath, prepared to lay it all out in the open but stopped when Reid waved a dismissive hand, her mouth snapping shut with an audible click.

"No need," he said lightly. "It doesn't matter. I just want to ask you guys one question, though."

Morgan stared, nonplussed. "… Sure. What?"

"_Are_ you free on Sunday?" The answering groans he received seemed to be in stereo, Prentiss actually throwing her hands in the air and rolling her eyes while Morgan ran a hand over his face in exasperation.

"Not with the Super Bowl thing, again, Reid! You just sa-"

"Super Bowl?" Reid interrupted, face the picture of innocence. "I didn't say anything about the Super Bowl. I asked if you were free on Sunday."

Morgan sputtered. "But- this morning, you… Kid, you were-"

Spencer continued on, speaking over Morgan as though he hadn't said a word. "Really, Morgan, you should know me better than _that_- I hate football. What ever gave you that idea?" He almost couldn't contain his glee as his friends and colleagues nearly choked with incredulous indignation.

"Then what exactly are you planning, this weekend?" Prentiss finally managed, her voice edged with wariness.

Reid shrugged. "I don't know. Hang out, have a few drinks… _not_ watch football. Honestly, I don't understand the appeal of such a barbaric sport. I'd rather stoop so low as to host an _anti_-Super Bowl party than spend my evening watching grown men in tight pants grapple with and tackle one another over a leather ball. Latent homo-eroticism notwithstanding, I just don't understand the point of it- and I'm a _genius_.

"Anyway… Just think about it, okay? I'm gonna' get back to work." And with that Reid brushed past his flummoxed teammates towards the bullpen.

Hot coffee in his hand and a wide smile on his face, Spencer Reid tackled the mountain of paperwork on his desk with newfound enthusiasm, thinking all the while that just maybe this day was looking up.

'_Two down, two to go…'_


End file.
